The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-10-08
THE LAST OF THE CRAIG
 SHAWS.
BN FANNIE B. MERRILL.

Poor, sickly, homely Lois Crag- shaw was twenty three years old when her mother died. She was twenty-five on the very day that her unkind old father left her an orphan an orphan without friends-and the last of the New England Cragshaws.
 It was on Sunday that he died. He was buried on Tuesday morning. Thursday afternoon Lois Cragshaw walked away from the lonely house that was hers now down the road to the village. She walked rapidly as if with set purpose, and her lips worked as if her mind was busy with words that were soon to be spoken. She met those that knew her, but she did not see them, nor did she seem to feel the looks of wonder and of disap- proval bent on her by those that had seen her standing that very morning, mute, fearless and unmoved by her fathers open grave.
 She passed them all unheeding by. Her steps quickened even more, and the color rose to her cheeks as with one who hears his end Her breath came fast as she sprang up the steps of the little brown shop that was really the only dollar mark of the vil lage. Glancing around her, not at the loungers who looked at her, but at the objects scattered on the narrow shelves and counters. she fixed her eyes on a shelf that hid itself in one dusky corner away below others that were wider and more prctcntious This seemed to bc what she sought, for her face softencd little while it grew no less earnest, and her strained muscles relaxed, and her body showed more than her manner that she was preparing to "wait her turn"
 One by one the waiting people, served or satisfied with much staring, turned away and gave to the next his lawful rights. Some, it is true, went they stopped to talk in low tones and with many glances at Lois, but this the brown old man who waited on them seemed to understand and sympathize with, for he paid no heed to them. but walked at once to where Lois Cragshaw stood. She did not see him; her eyes were fixed on that little lower shelf, and she started when he said to her ftly--for her drawn, excited face almost frightened him, "Well, Lois?" She started SO when he spoke to her that he spoke again as to child, with the quaver- ing softness of an old man.
 Well. Lois. What can give you today"
 That !'' she said. and pointed to the little lower shelf.
 The old man followed with his eyes the direction of her finger. He bent forward to look more closely in the dusky corner at what the shelf con tained.
 "That." said Lois, again, as if he had not heard her
 A tear came into the eyes of the kind old man as he remembered what gone past. And he said to himself, Poor Lois. Her wits are gone, too, sure enough"
 "Thatw said Lois Cragshaw, lean ing over the stained and whittled counter.
 "Yes. yes Lois. gently" spoke the awed shop keeper, with an air of lightness he was far from feeling But there's morn one that here {. which that would ye have?"
 "Thc red one" she said ..The red one next the blue one Oh, don't ye see:'
 "Yes, indeedy, indeedy. Sure enough! I'll give it ye. Wait min- ute an I'll dust the dirt off fur ye," he said with glance at her black gown. Sure enough! Lois, I'll give it vel"
 Carefully turning his back upon her, he rubbed the covers of a small red book with his big gingham hand kerchief, then slowly turned and gave it to her. She was waiting, one hand outstretched, the fingers twitching. In the other was the purse she had not forgotten, 90 strong was her desire for possession. The gaping neighbors